


The Brink of Madness

by cordkitty



Series: One Shots and Prompts and Stuff for Lokil Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Madness, Mental Illness, Prompt Fill, So much angst, a lonely god, losing his marbles, solas the man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9925190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordkitty/pseuds/cordkitty
Summary: "What a cruel fate he has been dealt. To love the thing he had to ruin -- And what a cruel fate he brought to her kind heart. To ruin the thing he had to love."Solas the man losing his mind when the end arrives. There is nothing left of Solas the god's once grand plan to restore the time of the elves. Only this. Death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning! Mention of death and mental illness! Read at your own discretion.
> 
> Technically a post-Trespasser one shot. Also a prompt fill, originally posted over on tumblr. 
> 
> https://cordkitty-ish.tumblr.com/
> 
> Music recommendation for this fic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JIdJLkJ0S4

 

 

He doesn’t know where he is - who he is. Who is he?

Solas feels his arms trembling violently, as a chill seeps through his veins, and an accompanying numbness spreads through his limbs.

She is gone. Gone. _Gone_.

This world will never hold her again.

Her lifeless shell lies limply in his arms. Her skin has lost its warm glow long ago; it hangs gray from her fragile bones now. She _wasted_ away, slowly. There’s no expression left on her once beautiful face. He truly has seen death now - his own death, and hers, is staring blankly through her half closed lids, and into nothingness. Her eyes were deep and dark, before - a glistening, sparkling depth to them when she looked at him and when she felt alive. Now, that warm depth is replaced by a deep chasm, an empty void. The sight of her is a twisted reversal of the memory he imprinted in his mind when he left her. She looks shrunken, gaunt and cold, and blood drips from her long hair and the tips of her fingers. His hands are soaked in it. He holds her like a beggar holds his starving child, helpless, powerless. He rocks her gently in his arms, without noticing it.

There is nothing left then.

He feels himself drifting away, wasting away just like she did, desperate and hollow.

_There is nothing left._

He is a king in rags, and she - she is his first victim. No. Not the first. But the last. He poured his poison into her himself. His love was poison. He knew it from the start, and yet he fooled himself into thinking that he could avoid the worst. It’s only now that he knows what that even means.

He killed the thing he loved. The thing that kept him alive, even as he waged war on her himself - his lover and his enemy. He once believed that, as long as she lived, he could not be the man he thought he was supposed to be, the saviour he believed he had to become. Her sweet, untainted love would have always tried to reach for him, to save him, and instead, he killed her. She would have never given in. It’s the remnants of that love that are lying in his arms now, cold and unresponsive.

What a cruel fate he has been dealt. To love the thing he had to ruin.

And what a cruel fate he brought to her kind heart. To ruin the thing he had to love.

_He killed the thing he loved._

It won’t be long now. There is no life left in him at the sight of her broken beauty - their broken beauty. He closes his eyes, leans his head back. He is fading already. He can’t feel his own heartbeat, no blood left in his veins. He feels himself falling down, weightlessly, empty. He could never have been free. This was written in malevolent stars from the beginning. There could not have been another way, a different end. He _wants_ to fade away, in her cold, limp arms, as he has done before, back when her body was still warm and tender, during those days when he still knew peace. It seems like the memory of another man’s life, as he feels that he’s arrived at the point where all roads meet. The end, his fate. He is lost, now that she’s no more.

_It won’t be long._

As he leans into the dark and hollow back of his mind, he thinks he feels thin fingers grasping his shoulders from behind - dark smoke curling in the air, stealing over his shoulders silently, enveloping him, taking hold of the little that is left. At the same time, dark shapes approach him from the front. They step out of the shadows, gathering around him, as he holds his dead lover in his arms. They are her allies, his enemies - they were his friends once, too. There is no fight left in him. He looks wearily up at their familiar, damning faces - a silent plea for help -  pity -  mercy -  in his tired eyes. They speak, but he can’t hear. He is cast out, apart.

Their words don’t matter now. It will be over soon.

He looks down at her broken body once more.

She is gone.

Had he thought he was standing on the brink of madness? He stepped over it long ago. He has been falling ever since, never even realizing it.

He wails. He howls in pain, and the ghostly sound thunders through the huge cavern and echoes off the rock walls, multiplying into an eerie cacophony.

She is gone. And as they tear his lover's corpse from his arms, he hopes it won’t be long until he is too.


End file.
